


Trysts

by AcidicMusings



Category: Natasha Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 - Malloy, Voyná i mir | War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy, War and Peace (TV 2016)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Drunk Oral Sex, Infidelity, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-08-23 00:22:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8306687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AcidicMusings/pseuds/AcidicMusings
Summary: He liked the way Pierre trembled when he underneath him. The way he would make breathy gasps when Anatole would drag his teeth and mark his pale skin. It was intoxicating and addicting, if Anatole would say so. What Hélène could not enjoy, he could.
or in which Anatole Kuragin ends up in affair with none other than Pierre Bezukhov.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! I wrote this spur of the moment and apologize for any grammar mistakes.

He liked the way Pierre trembled when he underneath him. The way he would make breathy gasps when Anatole would drag his teeth and mark his pale skin. It was intoxicating and addicting, if Anatole would say so. What Hélène could not enjoy, he could.

The first time was a mistake.

Per usual they were at one of Anatole's parties. Like the rest of the men that had been invited, both Pierre and Anatole had been drinking. Things were a bit fuzzy from the spirits. Anatole wasn't quite sure how the two ended up in the back room.

Pierre was on his knees (Anatole would admit it was a pretty sight). "Suck," Anatole commanded undoing his breeches. He slid a hand through Pierre’s short brown waves steadying the other man.

He groaned in approval feeling Pierre's lips wrap around his cock head. "Yes, just like that." He resisted the urge to fuck his mouth; the last thing he'd want was Pierre biting his manhood off. Pierre was sloppy but not bad for never giving a sucking a man off before. Anatole pulled him off by his hair and came. The image of Pierre kneeling on the ground, face streaked with Anatole's seed, and lips red from blowing him burned in his memory.

The second time was planned. After a week of jerking off to the memory Anatole decided it was time to make it become reality again. Anatole figured that if he does this that he'll be able to move on. That the dreams of Pierre kneeling and flushed will end. He chooses a day he knew his sister would be gone to visit Pierre.

"Anatole? What a pleasant surprise. Hélène isn't here at the moment."

"I know," Anatole responded smoothly pressing his way past Pierre. "I came to see you."

"Me?" Pierre said surprised, his cheeks flushed.

Anatole smirked and stepped forward closer to Pierre, "yes you. Perhaps you can pour us a drink."

"O-Of course," Pierre stammered. "Follow me." He said leading Anatole to the parlor. Whilst Pierre was pouring them drinks, Anatole pressed himself against the other.

"You know that mouth of yours has been keeping me up at night," he said lowly into Pierre's ear. He smiled feeling him stiffen then relax at the touch. Anatole pressed his fingers into Pierre's hips, he trailed the along the man's waistband and stopped at the front.

"Anatole, this isn't- you can't-" Pierre struggled but made no move to stop the other.

"If we can't then why are your breeches straining? Oh you want this, I bet you dreamt of taking my cock," he growled nipping the back of Pierre's neck. The man under him whimpered and tried grinding against the table.

"I know you want it, don't fight it." He undoes Pierre's breeches and wrap a hand around his cock. The other gasped softly as the touch and bucks into it. "Make some noise, my sister isn't home."

Anatole slowly pumped Pierre drinking up the moans and whimpers he made. He smears the built up precum to faster he pace. Pierre tilted his head back onto Anatole's shoulder and grasped his arms to prevent himself from falling. "I-I'm close," he warned tightening his grip. Anatole made a noise of acknowledgement and continued.

Anatole grinned triumphantly feeling Pierre's hips stutter and still as he came. The other fell limp against him, Pierre's grip tightened on his sleeve in an attempt to stay upright. "I'll be seeing you soon, you should probably clean yourself up before Hélène comes home." Anatole pressed a chaste kiss onto Pierre’s cheek and pulled away.

The third time just happens.

Anatole is back in the Bezukhov household. Once again, he chooses a time he knows Hélène will be gone for while, if his memory serves right she was off shopping again.

"Anatole," Pierre greets him. "Now may not be the best time-"

Anatole cocked his head and raised a brow, "we both know you do nothing all day but drink, now is the best time." He pushed pat Pierre who protested.

Pierre closed the door behind him and frowned, his bottom lip protruding a bit more than his top almost as if he was pouting. He wished to walk straight over to him and pull him into a bruising kiss, to bite at his lips.

Anatole repressed laughing over how screwed he was. He wanted to press Pierre against the wall and fuck him like an animal. "You can't just come over here and toy with me like you did, I am married."

"And so am I, so is Hélène. Why fret over being unfaithful when your wife is off doing so."

Pierre's face fell. "Anatole," he warned, Anatole smiled and pressed a hand to Pierre's chest.

"Pierre," he said mocking the others tone. Pierre glanced up through his glasses to look at Anatole. "Tell me why you should be miserable while she is out living the high life of society."

"I-" Pierre started but was unable to finish. Anatole smirked and stepped closer to him. He took hold of his chin and ran his thumb over Pierre’s lips. _Soft like a girl_ , he mused to himself before claiming them.

He pressed Pierre against the wall and pinned his hands. Pierre whimpered as Anatole caught his lower lip with his teeth as he pulled away. "I'm going to make you scream," Anatole started nudging his leg between Pierre's thighs, "and beg for me."

"My glasses," Pierre said. Anatole released one of his hands to let the other take them off. Once they were pushed away far from harm Anatole's hand worked at undoing Pierre's cravat to expose his neck. He wasted no time dragging his teeth against it and lightly nipping, he avoided marking the other just in case.

"God, Anatole," Pierre said under his breath arching against the other. "дерьмо́!" He cursed slipping into his northern tongue and grinding down against Anatole's leg.

"Turn around," Anatole said pulling away, Pierre obeyed and faced the wall. Anatole tugged at the other breeches until they were pooled around Pierre’s feet.

Anatole's heart felt like it was going to burst through his chest. He had heard of soldiers warming each other's beds but doing it himself? He shook his head it was too late to back out now. Anatole stuck three fingers into his mouth and coated them. He pulled them out and pressed one against Pierre's hole.

"That feels... uncomfortable," Pierre said after a moment.

"Shut up."

Anatole waited before pressing in a second. He paused hearing Pierre suck in a breath. Awkwardly he placed a hand onto his hip in an attempt to ease him. "It's okay," Pierre chimed.

With that being said Anatole added in the third. He spread them opening Pierre up. The man below him moaned softly and pressed back against the fingers. Anatole bit his lip at the masterpiece before him.

"Please," Pierre gasped. "Fuck, Anatole, please."

"Your wish is my command," he hummed pulling out his cock and pressing the head against Pierre’s hole. "I'm going in now."

Anatole couldn't stop himself from moaning, _God he's tighter than a girl!_ He didn't stop until he was buried at the hilt. Pierre panted trying to even his breathing. "M-Move," he said taking in a deep breath. Anatole bit his lip and slowly pulled out to the head before pushing back in. He slowly built up a pace and moved faster. Each thrust fueled by Pierre's moans and whimpers for more.

"Je m'en viens," Anatole cursed pulling out and coming. He pressed his lips against the back of Pierre's neck and nipped at the first vertebrae, he ran a hand down between the others legs and jerked him off until he came.

He pulled off of Pierre after a moment and helped the other stand, "would you like me to get a clothe for you?"

"Yes that would be nice," Pierre replied. Anatole took in the sight with pride, Pierre's hair was mussed and cheeks pink. He had done that.

He did as wanted and came back with a clothe. "Let me," he said when Pierre reached for it. Anatole kneeled to wipe the other down, he could feel the Count’s gaze on him as he did so.

"Done." He stood back up and patted Pierre's cheek. "I'll be seeing you, tell my sister I said hello, will you?" He didn't wait for his response before turning on his heel and leaving.

\---

"You do know I'm fucking your husband, don't you?" Anatole mused to Hélène from beside her bed.

"Of course I do. Did you really think that oaf could keep something like that to himself? Continue having your fun, I told him he could keep on enjoying you if he wanted," she replied her usual devious smirk on her face. "I assume you're having fun seeing you've gone to him twice now."

"He's soft like a woman." Hélène laughed.

"He is isn't he?"

"Enough about Pierre after all I'm here for you."

\---

The fourth time they make it to a bed.

Anatole let's Hélène know in advance before he comes this time. She promptly left for the night with the excuse of visiting their father (he suspected she was seeing one of her lovers).

"Anatole it is late."

"I am aware of that. I also happen to be aware that my sister, your wife, has given you permission to lay with me, no?" Pierre sputtered and went red. Anatole grinned stepping in and closing the door behind him. "I was thinking this time we should do it in a bed."

"Anatole-," his protests were cut short by Anatole kissing him. It was rough and clumsy but it shut Pierre up.

"This way," Pierre relented leading him up the stairs and to his room.

"Let me undress you?" Anatole asked his brushing his fingers against Pierre's cravat. The man nodded and Anatole undid it. He pushed his coat off and worked on undoing the buttons of his vest. Before long he had Pierre down to his underclothes.

"May I?" Pierre asked looking Anatole over. 

"Yes you may," he affirmed. He sucked in a breath feeling Pierre’s fingers brush against his exposed skin as he worked on his cravat. Once Anatole was down to his underclothes he lightly pushed Pierre down onto the bed.

Anatole suddenly realized how intimate they were. His heart sped up watching Pierre relax and let him take control. He pulled off the other’s thin shirt and moved to undo his drawers. Anatole ran his fingers along Pierre’s sides. Soft and pliant. He glanced at his face admiring the way his eyelashes fluttered at the touches. He lowered himself to press kisses onto Pierre’s skin. He nipped and licked his way up his body enjoying how he shuddered beneath him.

"Do you have any oil?" Anatole asked gently pulling off Pierre's glasses.

"Y-Yes bottom drawer," he croaked. Anatole moved to fish it out. He put a few drops onto his fingers and returned to his place between Pierre's legs. He bent the other’s legs back and pressed a finger in. Pierre stifled a moan with his knuckle.

"Don't hold back or else I'll stop," Anatole warned pressing in a second. Pierre let out a low moan in response. Anatole groaned feeling his cock twitch in his drawers. _Soon_ , he told himself and added in the third. He fingered Pierre until he was begging and crying for him.

Anatole pulled down his drawers and pressed his cock into Pierre. The man below him wrapped his legs around him and pressed the side of his face into the bed. "God, you feel so good," Anatole murmured lightly thrusting into him.

"Move already!" Pierre grunted arching his back. Anatole laughed at his impatience and held his hips as he started to move. Each thrust brought Anatole closer to climax.

" _Pyotr, Pyotr_ ," he chanted bending down close to the other, his breathing growing ragged. Anatole dragged his teeth along the others neck. "Pyotr, Pyotr, мой Петр." _His Pyotr_. He enjoyed the Russian on his tongue on he kissed Pierre.

"ваш, ваш," Pierre cried back digging his nails into Anatole's back. He came into the other, Pierre followed shortly after him. Anatole pressed another kiss onto Pierre's lips.

"мой Петр," he said against them. "Mine." Pierre babbled out a response too tired to form words. Anatole pulled out of him and collapsed to his side. Anatole found himself unable to resist pulling Pierre into his arms and curling against his warm body. He closed his eyes and fell into slumber.

When he woke he gently pulled himself away from Pierre. Anatole couldn't find it in his heart to wake up the peaceful man. He quietly dressed himself and slipped out of the room.

"Enjoy yourself?" 

"Fuck Hélène! Don't do that you scared me," he said looking over to see his sister perched on her love-seat.

"It was quite a sight to see you two wrapped up around each other like lovers," she teased, there was a slight bitterness to her voice.

"I don't know what you’re talking about," he said in an innocent voice. Hélène rolled her eyes and stood up to pour herself a drink.

"Should I expect to see you over more?"

"Yes, you should."

**Author's Note:**

> Translations (Please excuse the Russian translations I used google translate):  
> дерьмо́-shit  
> Je m'en viens-I'm coming/cumming  
> мой Петр- my Pyotr  
> ваш- yours
> 
> For anyone wondering why I used Russian and French it was because at the time period French was the lingua franca so nobles typically would speak in French vs Russian. Pyotr is Pierre's name in Russian for anyone confused on Anatole calling him that.
> 
> Thank you for reading! Kudos are appreciated and comments are loved.


End file.
